Kitabı oku: «Distracted Thoughts»
Distracted Thoughts
in Buch aus dem Romeon Verlag
1. Auflage, erschienen 4-2018
Umschlaggestaltung: Romeon Verlag
Cover artwork: L.F. dos Santos
Text: L.F. dos Santos
Layout: Romeon Verlag
ISBN: 978-3-96229-950-7
Copyright © Romeon Verlag, Kaarst
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Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek:
Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.dnb.de abrufbar.
Distracted Thoughts
L.F. dos Santos
Introduction
My name is Luis Filipe dos Santos, In poetry, I found a way to release my thoughts into paper. Distracted Thoughts, is a well-flavoured book with bittersweet ingredients, well-disposed: Poetry and prose.
The result is a kind of stew, which reveals the strong as well as the weak points of mankind. Fiction with a trace of reality, an ideal blend to rouse up the numbness of our distracted souls. You will taste the divine flavour of what is ordinary.
The Pine Tree
Majestically honouring the creator
in a quiet and secluded place
a rocky castle was built by nature,
elevated from the bowels of earth.
Archaic in structure, solid and inflexible
an architectural miracle
transcending a surreal stupefaction.
Rich in nourishment
for some biological species.
In the top of the cliff
the stage of the great maestro
succumbs to God is feet
among clouds cloaked with haze
refreshing its conspicuous roots.
In its long and steady branches
the nest of a golden eagle
dwells amid the leaves.
The wind whistled in its branches
scattering messages from a recent past.
Memories from fallen civilizations crucified by greed.
The maestro and its apprentice convey this revelation
by spreading waves of vibrant sounds
to all the trees of the valley.
Given to it by chance the divine faculty
because it is blessed by shape and splendour.
Glad to embrace its fate
picturing in energy what it receives.
Transferring for its fellows
in their inflicted blindness.
Memories from fallen civilizations crucified by greed.
The Piano
Black and white everyone in its vibrates.
A score to follow right or left in progress.
Notes of bliss in every piece.
Madness and stress fade
the spirit gains harmony.
Music is the key
a universal complex
just like love and sex,
two hands playing like ten
every filament confined in the stream.
Mozart worshipped the piano
a God within keys
glory personalised in ivory.
Sounds of heaven
pronounced for eternity.
Grand piano In pure wood framed
visual and purity not compared
to a lover, an event social,
there is no rival contra this body astral.
The Descent
A sublime ultimate descent
an epilogue of the sunny cloudy day.
Spreading light through its slender tentacles
piercing clouds, droplets, dust and shades of grey.
Cutting the breath off
remarkably narcissistic.
Serving the poet a delicious dish
argumentative, deign to exist.
Blue and yellow progressively
scatter away vanishing.
The red paints intensity
while descending.
Offering beauty and warmth
graciously bowing to the sky.
Lessening its contrasts of light
foreboding a goodbye.
Scattering the sound of the waves through the wind
the day succumbs to the night is feet.
Enchanting all the beings of earth
escorting them into calm and peaceful sleep.
The Ritual
Consumed by the waves of time
perpetually untouchable
in the penumbra
deeply inside the rocks is cave
a fleshless corpse lies.
Where the moonlight evanesce,
where the salt water
had no room to embrace.
Fireflies welled up surprisingly
to bright this mystical place.
Every night in the same field,
where hope and dreams
were formerly forged.
They enter the cave
wearing the spirit
of a resplendent woman
performing an unusual ritual.
Shimmering energies,
portraying memories
dancing freely bare-foot
among the apple trees.
Grass stirs
breeding sounds
of joyful laughs
to fade in the first rays of dawn.
The Return
Creeping along like a worm
stuck in mud infested with alcohol
spewing out guts and dreams.
Blank eyes, pallid orbs deep in bone
appearance a tangled mess.
He is lying on the autopsy table
declared dead.
He opens his eyes:
Where the hell are my glasses?
The Real Path
My will just as my soul
have painted the patterns
of this magnificent tapestry.
My life is not delineated yet
but transfigures itself
with every step I take.
Every breath feeds
my ravenous mind
releasing a million thoughts
of unravelled mysteries.
Alluringly attracting me
extending an invisible carpet
where I could strive safely,
disconnected from earthly criteria.
A wild mind aware of the essence of life
living freely connected with nature.
A biological calling, ingenuous and pure
beyond superficial clichés
a caring brave heart tamed
with the whip of freedom.
The Pact
The prince is fire in shape
image and splendour.
A magnificent species a flamed lover
in the art of amour.
No match on earth
nor in the moon.
Both succeeded
fertilising a bloom.
Under the magic brilliance,
of the mystical moon.
A grown-up being
was born.
A womb of soil,
rocks, roots, and dust.
The white haired princess`
breathing trust.
An incomparable beauty
emerald green eyes, round.
Ruby hues in her lips
her rose skin as hard as diamond.
A successful arrangement
a pact to balance the spun.
The princess was promised
to the prince of the sun.
Autumn
Leaves fall from the trees
dry fruits hang on their barely bare branches
with some resistant leaves.
The verdant soil now changes
into a pallet of warm colours,
red, yellow and brown hues enrich the royal tapestry.
The lazy sunshine tempers the breeze
scattering its golden rays,
painting in gold the vastness of the orb.
The playful wind whispering a cadence
of decay, sweeping away the leaves
in a journey of dissolution and decay.
The greens and browns turning
into sepia.
The nude desolate environment wears
shades of grey in his neglected veil of Autumn.
The ceremonial costume emerges to honour
the arrival of harsh, maleficent Winter.
The Bird Goddess
Her name is Iness.
She is dancing with all the birds of the forest performing
rituals.
Her bare feet softly caress the green plains
on the wet soils.
Like a small hummingbird
iridescent,
swiftly flapping her silk wings.
Hovering gracefully in the haze
freely embracing her fate.
The lady of the light
blessed with magic wings
to protect
to project God is energy,
flapping her wings
to clean the sins of the sinners.
To command her ravens to a sacred journey
gathering and guiding the wanderers is souls to the light.
The Magic Hood
She was lost
the day someone told her to go
and never come back.
Shadows of grey
painted and marbled of sorrow
the face of a teenager of sixteen.
Her eyes reddened drenched by tears
obscured by a muddy tainted hood.
Concealing the purple stains of grief,
carved on her skinny face,
personifying a perturbed soul demanding care
a human being lost
dragged into the darkest side of the abyss.
Screaming inside
blaming herself,
expecting while suffering.
Walking on the corridor of time
wandering thoughtful, justifying the unjustifiable.
She wore an invisible cloak as a talisman, as a shield.
A magic hood with a white rose sprinkled with blood imprinted
to conceal to protect her from the merciless claws of
fate.
